


Hermione through the..Rat's cage?

by Kendas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22630384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendas/pseuds/Kendas
Summary: This had not been the plan. The plan had definitely not included Hermione spending the day sitting in an old unused rat cage on top of Zabini’s fireplace on a transfigured thimble.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Blaise Zabini
Kudos: 22





	Hermione through the..Rat's cage?

**A.N:** Written for challenge number 12 over at the Slytherin/Gryffindor Fic Only Group. Theme: Being Small. Umm, it was supposed to be a drabble, but well I got carried away, but not as carried away as normal, I hasten to add.  
**A.N:** this isn’t new, just uploading old stories from my livejournal

****

Hermione Through the… Rat’s Cage?

This had not been the plan.

The plan had been simple. 

Nowhere had the plan stipulated getting caught. The plan had definitely not contained any mention of getting caught by Zabini of all people, or being forced to drink a rather _‘Alice in Wonderland’_ style potion. And the plan had definitely not included Hermione spending the day sitting in an old unused rat cage on top of Zabini’s fireplace on a transfigured thimble.

Hermione huffed loudly and re-crossed her legs.

“Bored yet, Granger?” came Zabini’s elegant drawl.

Hermione couldn’t see him. He was sitting somewhere out of her line of vision. All she could see was the green couch in front of her and the slightly ajar door into his bedroom. She had, however, been able to hear him moving around. 

She had heard him in the kitchen, earlier that day, chopping something up. She had heard him whistling as he did so. Occasionally he would call out to ask her if she was hungry, then he’d taunt her with deliciously wicked descriptions of what he was preparing that made her stomach growl and her mouth water for more than food.

She had heard him in the shower, that time he had been humming. She hadn’t been sure of the song, but the sound of his mellifluous voice and the visions that the sound of running water had conjured as it undoubtedly ran over the smooth sleek lines of his chocolate skin, had made Hermione growl and bang on the glass walls of her cage in irritation.

She had heard him reading, and that had been the most frustrating sound of all. Each time he turned the page. Hermione had wondered if he had cast a charm on the book to amplify the sound because of how loud the crisp sound of parchment turning had been. Each turn of a page, each rustle had reminded Hermione, stuck as she was at six inches high and sitting caged on a mantelpiece, of her lack of reading material and of the reason that she had gotten caught in the first place. 

All she had wanted was to retrieve that thrice-damned letter. Honestly, she had never meant to send it. She really wished now that she had never written it, but Ginny had convinced her that it would help her deal with her feelings if she just got them off her chest by writing them down. Of course, it might have helped if Ginny hadn’t then gone and posted the damn thing to him. 

Hermione was going to kill Ginny Weasley.

She heard somebody get up and quickly turned around on her miniature chair to face the wall, she really didn’t want to have to see him again, especially if he was still wearing just those low-slung black-cotton trousers that Hermione longed to tug down.

“Are you ready to elaborate on the reason that I caught you snooping through my desk?”

Hermione huffed.

“Really, Granger, usually you are so talkative.”

“Usually I’m five-feet taller as well,” she groused.

“I can wait, you know. I have plenty to keep me occupied and besides-” 

He paused and Hermione had to fight the urge to turn around and look at his beautiful smirking face that irritated her so much.

“-I rather enjoy having you caged and controllable on my shelf. Of course,” he said and Hermione knew that his face must have been pressed almost right up against the glass, because she could feel the vibrations from his voice as he purred, “I’d rather restrain you another way.”

Hermione stood and swivelled around quickly to face him, an accusing finger outstretched and pointed towards Blaise.

“You read it, didn’t you? You know! You’ve just been tormenting me all day, making me sweat and feel…”

“Small?” Blaise offered, sinking down onto the sofa, his arms casually outstretched along the back displaying his well formed chest and the trail of hairs that led down under the waist band of _those bloody trousers._ “Really, Granger, I have no idea what you think I may have read. Perhaps you would like to elaborate.”

“You, you… Gar!” Hermione growled, turning around and dropping down onto her seat.

“All you have to do is tell me, Granger,” the infuriating man chuckled behind her, tinkling what she presumed was the vial of liquid, the antidote. 

He had placed the vial tauntingly on his coffee table earlier that day. Hermione had stared at it longingly on and off all day, wishing for her wand. 

“No? Fair enough!” he said.

It was a few minutes before Hermione recognised the sound of the popping of buttons.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked, turning around.

Blaise smiled and raised an eyebrow.

“Entertaining myself while I await your explanation.”

“But, but you can’t,” Hermione squeaked, flushing as Blaise just smirked and slipped a hand inside the placket of his trousers. 

“Really?” he replied, pulling his erection from within the opening and wrapping his fingers around it.

Hermione’s mouth went dry. “Please. Please don’t,” she begged, unable to tear her eyes away from the subject of her fantasies for the past six months and incapable of preventing her thighs from rubbing together.

“Why?” Blaise asked, his voice gravely as his hand stroked up the shaft of his erection to brush over the head, spreading some of the pre-come that had leaked over his palm. “Why were you going though my mail, Hermione?”

“I can’t say. Please just stop,” Hermione moaned, her hands pressed to the glass as she watched the movements of his hands, her head reeling from the sound of his voice saying her name.

“Do you really want me to? Come on, just tell me.”

“No!”

“Tell me,” Blaise insisted, his strokes more forceful and his back arching against the couch.

It was akin to watching a train wreck, Hermione realised. She knew she should look away, because there was no way this was gong to help her little obsession with the man on the couch, but she couldn’t bear to miss a minute. She watched him a moment longer, fighting with her own conflicting emotions.

“I was trying to find a letter that I had sent to you by mistake,” Hermione sobbed out eventually.

“Good girl,” Blaise gasped, standing quickly from the chair and letting his cock bounce, his undone trousers falling from his hips. He kicked the garment away, striding towards the fireplace, the vial once again clasped in his hand. 

Lifting Hermione from the cage, Blaise pulled the cork from the vial, placed her down on the couch and let a single drop fall onto his finger. “Lick,” he commanded, offering her his finger.

Hermione looked at him aghast. She couldn’t. If she did then she was sure that she would never get over this silly, bloody crush.

“Do you want to be small for the rest of your life?”

“I’m not very big normally,” Hermione groused, her eyes darting between his finger and his erection.

“That’s as maybe, but I’d still prefer to have you full sized.”

“I can’t. You don’t understand.” He really didn’t. She’d had a crush on him for months, ever since they had been assigned to work together on Draco Malfoy’s case, and now… now Ginny had sent that letter, and he had to have read it. He was clearly just having some horrible, cruel fun at her expense, but one taste of his skin and Hermione feared she’d be lost. “Please.”

“Hermione, I read the letter…”

Hermione winced, horrified at having her suspicions confirmed. She closed her eyes, before turning away and trying to hide under one of the cushions. Maybe being six inches tall wasn’t too bad. It would make hiding and not being noticed for the rest of her life easier.

“… damnit!” Blaise exclaimed pulling her from below the pillow by her shirt collar and pressing the finger with the potion on to her lips. “I was pleased. I’d been meaning to ask you out for ages, but I thought that you were still getting over Weasley. I certainly never imagined that you would write about me. Such dirty little thoughts too. It was quite the pleasant surprise.”

Hermione looked up at him, her mouth open.

“Lick your lips,” he instructed.

Hermione did, running her tongue over first the top lip and then the bottom.

“Swallow,” he smirked, causing Hermione to glace back down at his cock.

Hermione did as he asked, though only partly because of his request. Her compliance was mostly due to the sight of him hard and leaking in front of her and Blaise’s statement concerning his reciprocation of her feelings.

“Good girl. Really, Hermione, I never expected you to take orders so well,” he said, grinning salaciously. 

Hermione felt the potion taking affect almost immediately, but still she was unable to raise her gaze from where his hand had resumed stroking his cock. She felt her legs stretching, her bones extending, her skin expanding and her muscles swelling. It really was a horrible experience, but her eyes stayed fixed on Blaise the whole time.

She gasped in a lungful of air as she reached her normal size, holding it for a moment in anticipation of the possibility of facing any of the problems that Alice had. She didn’t get any bigger though, or any smaller. Instead she stayed at just the right height; five-foot-six.

“Hmm, now that’s much better,” said Blaise, looking her over appreciatively. “Really, I thought you were going to give in when I was reading that _Sonorus_ charmed book.”

Hermione had only a moment to narrow her eyes, before she found herself pressed back into the cushions of the sofa by a very naked and still aroused Blaise Zabini. His lips nipping and sucking at her neck while his hands worked on undoing the buttons of her shirt.

 _Okay, maybe I won’t kill Ginny just yet,_ Hermione thought absently, her hand running up and over the lean muscles of Blaise’s back.

~*~

**A.N:** Written for challenge number 12 over at the _Slytherin/Gryffindor Fic Only Group_. Theme: Being Small.

Umm, this was supposed to be a drabble, but well I got carried away, not as carried away as normal, though, I hasten to add. 

Thank you to my beta, Rhiannon for going over this.


End file.
